


. . . But The Melody Lingers On

by LuvnTheJukebox (GalahadsGurl)



Series: Dancing About Architecture [1]
Category: Aztec Religion, Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/LuvnTheJukebox
Summary: Sometimes, things linger.
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, Xochiquetzal & Julie Molina's Mother
Series: Dancing About Architecture [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983638
Comments: 190
Kudos: 521





	1. Live Like You Were Dead

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic in this fandom. It's the first fic I've written for any fandom outside of my current universe in . . . I don't know when. The power of Fantoms, I guess. 
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://imgur.com/HKHmAwN)

Ghosts did **not** get dizzy. And yet . . .

Luke couldn't resist the swimming sensation that all but literally knocked him off his feet. It had been about three days since Julie broke the curse of Caleb's stamp. Riding high on the surge of energy that came from knowing Julie could touch them and physically interact with them, the band dove headfirst into the sensation of being human again. Even if that sensation only existed with Julie. Well, mostly. Occasionally, they would turn intangible again if they didn't focus - which caused Julie to fumble, trip or fall a time or two - but for the most part, the four of them could **touch**! 

Luke could hold her hand! And she could hold his! And she **wanted to** . . . a lot, considering how many times she'd grabbed it since the night they played the Orpheum. If Luke was the type to blush easily, he felt sure that a lot of the time his face would be perpetually red. 

Even still, just being able to touch her whenever he wanted to left him on Cloud Nine pretty much all the time. 

Those feelings left him swimming in lyrics, and he'd been standing beside the piano, scribbling frantically in his notebook to get them all down, when the sudden sense of vertigo made him stagger and fall into the edge hard. "Whoa!" came the surprised shout from his best friend, Reggie's hands coming to catch him by the elbows and lower him carefully to the ground. "What the hell was that?" 

"I don't know," he replied, blinking rapidly to try and chase away the rainbow-colored white spots dancing across his vision. "It was weird." 

"Yeah, it was," Reggie agreed with a pair of furrowed eyebrows and a small frown. "One second you were fine, and the next second . . . you fainted." 

"I did **not** faint," Luke insisted, feeling his features settle into what Julie called his "pouting puppy" frown. "I just . . . I got dizzy." 

"Dizzy?" Alex echoed, crouching next to the other two boys. "Ghosts don't get dizzy."

"And yet, here's Cinderella on his fainting couch," Reggie snarked, giving Luke a firm glare in a silent admonition to shut up and not argue. 

Luke - not being an idiot - didn't even try. Reggie didn't get serious often, but when he did . . . no one wanted to be the one to set off pissed off Reggie. It never ended well for whoever did. Still, the insinuation that he'd fainted because of a silly dizzy spell - _a dizzy spell ghosts couldn't **have**!_ a voice protested in the back of his head, that sounded very much like Reggie - left the bitter taste of gall in the back of his mouth. He **didn't** faint. 

Alex looked back and forth between the two, before twisting his mouth. "Damn, I wish I could find Willie. He might know what's going on." 

"You can't," Luke insisted with a frown. "He's trying to lay low right now, remember?" Head shaking he continued as the blond opened his mouth to protest, “Caleb is still out there, and he still owns Willie’s soul. We know Willie’s okay - let’s not do anything that might change that, yeah?” 

Alex heaved a sigh then nodded, giving Luke the chance to try and push himself to his feet. The pain in his knees and stomach were a surprise and he barely managed to bite down on the groan wanting to slip free, strength failing him halfway before he managed to get all the way up. Alex and Reggie lunged to grab him by the arms, both helping to provide upward momentum. More than a little terrified by the all-too-familiar weakness he was feeling, Luke accepted the help, sincerely concerned that without it he may not have made it to his feet at all. Once standing, he found the strength to stay that way, steady once again on his feet, though the pain in his stomach and joints remained - a low, irritating ache he found more annoying than anything else. _Okay, majorly not awesome._

Frowning, he considered the circumstances of their last several days and shrugged, "Maybe it's the stamp." 

"The stamp is gone," Alex reminded him. 

"Yeah, but it's like Willie said, right? The jolts took energy, like a power drain. Maybe we're still trying to get all of the power back," Luke explained, hand waving as he forced himself to explain as much as he could. “Are you guys having any of the same problems?”

“Maybe.” Reggie frowned and nodded, "I felt weird getting off the couch this morning, so it's possible." 

"I guess I should mention that my eyes sometimes don't focus the way I want them to," Alex confessed with a frown. Arms folding over his chest, the blond fiddled with the clasp on his fanny pack as he insisted, "Now I really wish I could talk to Willie." 

"I don't think anyone's ever managed to break Caleb's curse before," Luke insisted, moving over his couch with a small grimace. Despite the renewed strength in his body, he still felt weird and definitely wanted to be sitting down just he . . . great, now Reggie had him thinking it. He did **not _faint_**! Plopping into the cushions, he let his head fall back against the backrest, eyes still on his brothers as they watched him. "He didn't think there was another way to avoid it than crossing over. He didn't think of Julie." 

"Of course he wouldn't," Alex replied with a soft scoff, defending his ghost friend fiercely, "he'd never heard of anyone like Julie existing before, remember? Except for her, as far as he knew, lifers don’t usually see ghosts." 

"Fair," Luke agreed with a grunt. Letting his eyes slip closed, he took several long, slow breaths to steady out his shaky knees, before shoving himself to his feet. He schooled his face into impassivity, locking his knees to stay upright at the swell of vertigo - he didn't have time for this! Lyrics did not write themselves. 

"You okay, man?" Reggie questioned, eyes narrowed curiously. 

"Absolutely." 

It didn't look like either of his brothers believed him, but . . . Luke knew how to perform in front of a captive audience. It would just be a different set of eyes than he was used to. "Look, I'm fine - I need to finish those lyrics before I lose them." 

“And music-obsessed Luke is back.” Alex and Reggie exchanged an amused look between the two of them, Reggie’s tone dry as he insisted, “Oh yeah, he’s fine.” 

Luke grabbed up the throw pillow at his elbow and chucked it at his friend, pouting a little to see it fly right through the other teenager. “You’re a jerk.” 

Both of them turned to look at Alex as the drummer started to beat out a distracted rhythm on his drums. “You okay, Alex?” 

"Do you think we should tell Julie?" Alex questioned, head cocking a little in question. 

"No!" Luke barked, blinking at his own ferocity. Swallowing hard, he pushed on, "She's still freaked out about nearly losing us. I don't want to add to that. I'm fine, okay? We don't need to make her worry about this." 

Reggie and Alex glanced towards each other - clearly having some silent conversation they didn't feel the need to include Luke in - before both musicians turned back to their own instruments. Reggie reached across the piano for Luke’s notebook, flinging it at him like a frisbee, and making Luke fumble for it to laughter from them both. Rolling his eyes, the singer rolled his eyes and snarked, “Thanks, I think.” 

Reggie grinned, then turned his attention back to the bass guitar dangling from his shoulder. Concern still clung to the crinkled corners of Alex’s eyes, those eyes watching Luke carefully for a long moment before his head shook and he turned his attention back to his drums. Luke remained on the couch, head bowed over his notebook as he started again from the last thought he’d had. All too soon, the three friends lost themselves in the familiar joy of songwriting once more. While no one forgot Luke’s **not** -fainting spell, per se, at least his friends were kind enough not to mention it again. 

And **no one** said anything to Julie when she came into the garage after school. 

Suddenly curious about what else he’d missed, Luke spent a good portion of the next couple days keeping an eye on his friends. Alex's funky vision and Reggie’s moment of weakness in combination with his own near-constant pain left Luke feeling a little out of sorts. In an effort to combat that, he turned watchful and protective. 

To say Luke felt guilty for not noticing the way Alex blinked rapidly while he played might have been an understatement. To be fair, though, the blond didn’t give any indication that his eyes were bothering him when they played, his sticks still hitting the drums as perfectly as ever. Now that Luke started watching for them, noticing how often it happened left Luke feeling a little out of sorts. Fortunately, the blurriness in his vision didn’t seem to affect him any more than occasionally losing things if he set them down. 

At first, Reggie didn't seem to be suffering any aftereffects from the stamp. In fact, the only aftereffects seemed to be Reggie’s own worry over the ones Luke and Alex were dealing with. More than once, Luke looked up from his guitar to find the youngest member of the band watching the other two like a hawk. A couple of times he would frown in the middle of the song, though, his body shifting uncomfortably, especially if he’d been standing still for some time. Frankly, except for the fact it happened more than normally, Luke could understand why he initially didn’t notice - Reggie always struggled with restlessness, so how much of that was just Reggie and how much of it was whatever made him feel weird that morning, Luke honestly couldn't tell. 

As for Luke, whatever made him get dizzy – and **absolutely** not faint! - seemed to come and go with stubborn resilience. Dizzy nearly all the time, he paid careful attention to where he stood at all times. For the most part, he stayed sitting on the couch or the piano bench next to Julie, or - more rarely - leaning against the end of the piano while hunched over his notebook. More than once he could feel sweat tickling in the hair at the nape of his neck, despite the fact ghosts didn’t sweat. Granted, ghosts didn’t get dizzy either, so who even knew what ghosts did or didn't do anymore? 

The worst part, though, might be the reemergence of the jolts. Not particularly strong, but definitely painful. No one else seemed to get them, an infinitely comforting fact considering the idea of his friends and brothers enduring this kind of pain **again** felt more or less like torture. Fortunately, Luke found he could pass off the slight hunching if he pretended to drop his pen or guitar pick or . . . literally anything. 

Julie’s smile still left him on the top of the world more often than not, though, and when she held his hand, Luke felt a thousand times better. Not to mention, when she started teasing him about suddenly becoming a klutz, the playful look on her face never failed to make his day. She’d get this wicked little tilt to her grin, her cute little nose wrinkling up. After which, she’d giggle – and if Luke had thought her singing voice belonged to an angel, then her giggles definitely did. Julie was amazing and perfect - and as essential to Luke as air, almost. Being able to touch her now made whatever was happening to him infinitely worth it. 

Granted, then came the night almost two weeks after the Orpheum when he actually **slept**. An hour, maybe, at most - he woke sharply, jolting awake and upright as though he'd just experienced a truly nasty dream. Maybe he did - the dread coating the back of his throat tasted like nothing he'd ever eaten before. Fortunately, no one noticed - Alex and Reggie weren’t in the garage, so neither of them could see Luke stumble towards the garage bathroom before proceeding to upchuck his guts. 

So vomiting - apparently another new thing ghosts could do. At least, if the ghost was Luke. 

Slumping back onto his couch, he stared at his hands where they laid, palm up, in his lap. Usually steady on the strings of his guitar, now they trembled like a leaf in the wind. He felt **cold** \- a kind of cold that felt different from the cold of death. It clung to every joint, leaving him stiff and unwieldy. He hated it. Distantly, he wished Alex **could** go to Willie for answers. It might be better than continuing to deal with whatever was happening to him without any answers. 

Desperate to make sure their own suffering over whatever the jolts had done didn’t get any worse Luke spent a good portion of the time he wasn't writing watching his friends. Watching his friends so closely gave him an insight into their own struggles. While none of them were dealing with physical pain or sickness like Luke, they were all clearly struggling. 

Alex's problems with his visions came and went, though it still didn’t affect his drumming. He learned to account for it, mostly. The tall blond never reached for the flyers about potential gigs Julie would bring home, and his drumsticks found a permanent home in his back pocket instead of on the table. At least in his pocket, he knew exactly where they were and didn’t have to go chasing them down when he couldn't see them sitting there. 

As for Reggie, what Luke originally believed to be restlessness turned out to be some kind of numbness and tingling in Reggie's legs, hands, and feet. If the bassist stood still for too long - fortunately not something Reggie was terribly well known for - the tingling turned into an almost burning sensation, forcing him to move and shift to relieve the feeling. One time, he nearly smacked Alex in the head with the neck of his bass when he all but leaped from one side of the garage to the other in an effort to ease the feeling. 

Considering how little Luke left the garage except for gigs, he could say with complete confidence neither of his brothers was vomiting. Meaning that, whatever was happening, Luke seemed to be the only one suffering from that particular symptom. Honestly, whatever was happening to him felt a lot like how he remembered the flu . . . only like a million times worse. 

Sweating regardless of how cold he felt.

Throwing up even though he didn’t eat anymore, which was just all **kinds** of fun.

Persistent pain in his stomach and chest. 

Not to mention vertigo which got so bad, he started leaning back against a stool during practice sometimes just to make sure he didn’t fall over. 

Days passed like this, Luke almost constantly in a fog. The pain became near-constant, with daily nausea and persistent weakness in his joints and muscles. He dreaded the day whatever this was started affecting whether or not he could stay solid. Affecting how often Julie could touch him. He knew better than almost anyone how much Julie relied on being able to touch them to help her over the minor panic attacks that came from remembering the night she thought she lost them. Forcing that kind of focus when his body wanted to tear itself apart, though; it sounded a lot like hell. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her, but somewhere in the back of his thoughts, he knew . . . 

Something was wrong. And eventually, they **would** have to tell her.

*****

Practice that day had been kind of a disaster.

The third time Alex couldn't find his drumsticks after setting them down on the piano, Luke could see the questions in Julie's eyes. He’d seen the look on her face she wore now only once - the day he and Reggie stole the lyrics for “Flying Solo” from her dream box - and desperately he wanted to be out of arm’s reach. When she was angry with them, Julie hit **hard**. A voice in the back of his head warned him he might need to dodge around the piano to avoid angry Julie, while the rest of him managed to glue his feet to the floor. He smirked a little despite the gnawing pain low in his belly, the memory of that day filling him with familiar warmth. He wondered if she remembered the way he’d pulled Reggie between them, or that she’d actually dodged around the brunet instead of going through him. Her dodging had given Luke the time to get in front of her mother’s piano, and then on top of it so he could force her to face the truth about her talent. 

That day had been the start of all this. And would remain one of his fondest memories, regardless of what was happening to the Phantoms right now. Shirking away from the thought, he forced himself to pay attention once again. 

Julie’s eyes snapped with frustration, her arms folding over her chest and earning a grin from Luke at her sudden resemblance to a cute but very grumpy kitten. Her tone might as well have been a baseball bat to face when she demanded, "What is going on with you?" 

The three Phantoms glanced at each other, wondering how much they could feasibly say without worrying her unnecessarily. Granted, the evasion only seemed to frustrate Julie as she demanded, “Guys! What is going on!?” 

Luke winced; the terror intermingled with the anger in her tone stabbed like a knife, hitting him low in the gut and making the pain already festering there infinitely worse. He didn’t want to lie to her - never wanted to lie to her - but he didn’t want her to worry either. He’d been there for her initial reaction to finding out about the stamp, and how devastated she’d been at the thought of losing someone else she loved. He didn’t want to see that look on her face ever again. 

Alex sent Luke a significant look, the drummer clearly conveying his thoughts about Luke’s desire to keep silent, though he thankfully said nothing. Luke grimaced a little, head shaking firmly. The sigh Alex let out was eloquent, though Alex didn’t argue; only turned back to Julie with a gentle smile on his lips. "It's really not a big deal, Julie, honest." 

Incredulous didn’t even come close to the look on Julie’s face at the statement. “What is **it**!?” she demanded, those passionate eyes sweeping over all three of them before zeroing back on the drummer. “What’s not a big deal?” she questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she scanned over the three ghost boys. 

“It’s just some side effects from the jolts,” the blond insisted in the kind of soothing, calm tone that used to get Sunset Curve out of trouble back when they’d still been alive. To hear it again now caused a chuckle from Reggie, though the sound cut off quickly when Luke smacked him in the shoulder. 

Glancing at Reggie, Alex then aimed another look at Luke. Luke could clearly see the “Idiot!” Alex wished he could say, but he said nothing. Turning back to Julie, Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he continued to explain, “When he first told us about what Caleb’s stamp did to us, Willie told us the jolts drained power from us. When the power was gone, we would be too.” He shrugged a little as he continued, “We were dealing with the jolts for a while, so the batteries are just taking longer to recharge than we thought they would.” 

Julie’s lips twisted a little, and Luke could see the sharp point of her canine dig into her bottom lip. She seemed to be considering the three of them, and Luke forced himself to straighten up so she wouldn’t see anything too out of the ordinary. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head. She sounded scared when she spoke again, “And you’re sure you're going to be okay? You’re not going to disappear on me?” 

Reggie beamed at her, one small lock of hair dropping across his forehead as he insisted, “We are stuck on you like glue!” 

Alex turned to look at Reggie, eyebrows furrowing as he demanded, “Really?” One eyebrow cocked upwards, before that blond hair flopped around as he sighed, tone a little sarcastic as he insisted, “Okay.” 

“What?!” Reggie questioned, eyes wide and curious, earning snickers from Luke and those delightful little giggles from their lead singer. 

Luke moved to Julie’s side, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against him. The touch of her head against his collarbone swept the pain away instantly, leaving an almost giddy euphoria in its place. A beaming grin turned up the corners of his mouth as he hugged her tightly, while dexterous fingers smoothed through her hair. Pressing a warm kiss to her forehead, he promised, “We’re not gonna leave you, Julie.” 

"Besides, we’re ghosts, right?" Looking up and seeing the other two watching them carefully, he let out a soft laugh as he insisted, “It’s not like ghosts can get sick."


	2. Tired of Getting Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! _*ducks into the bunker*_ Enjoy this one? And I hope no one kills me.

[ ](https://imgur.com/HKHmAwN)

Honestly, Luke should know better than to open his fucking mouth. Somehow, someway, he was fucking sick.

It had been weeks, and Luke still felt like shit. Alex still had some problems with his eyes and Reggie still rocked out a little more . . . Reggie . . . than usual. But both of them seemed to have a handle on it. Luke - not so much. In fact, it almost seemed to be getting worse. 

Nearly four weeks after the Orpheum, Alex caught him sleeping. And Luke knew he was busted. 

His longtime friend - and former . . . whatever the hell they'd been - sat down on the couch next to Luke's hip and reached to fold his palm over his forehead. Luke, knowing better than to argue, rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I'm not sure that actually works on ghosts." 

"Ask me if I care," Alex snarked in reply, fingernails scratching soothingly against the nape of Luke's neck and earning a soft groan. "What's going on with you, dude?" 

The two watched each other for a long time before Luke heaved a soft sigh. He recognized that look - as the oldest member of the band, Alex long ago adopted a "Big Brother" persona with both Luke and Reggie, and woe betide either of them who dared to wiggle out from under his fussing when he found himself in the mood. "I just feel like hell." 

"You shouldn't still ‘feel like hell’, Luke," Alex rebuked lightly. "The jolts have been gone for weeks." 

And of course, now his body took the opportunity to betray him. 

A particularly nasty jolt hit Luke right in the gut, forcing him to curl in on himself if he wanted to try and breathe. Knees tucking up into his chest, the lead guitarist bent to press his forehead against the joint with a deep, resonating groan. He could feel Alex's rising concern like a tidal wave on the beach – all-consuming and likely to drown him. So he attempted to swallow the pain and insisted, "I'm fin . . ."

Alex cut him off sharply, sounding equal parts terrified and furious, "If you finish that sentence, Lucas Patterson, I **will** kick your ass."

Pressing his lips together tightly, Luke ducked his head back into the cradle of his knees, trying to breathe through the building nausea. Alex was already freaking out – if Luke puked right now, the band would be dealing with a full-scale Alex Melt Down. They had a gig in three days. A full-on panic spiral would not get Luke’s new song written any faster. “Alex . . .” he insisted, peeking up at him with pleading eyes, “You **can’t** tell Julie.” 

“The hell not!?” he demanded, arms akimbo as he sprang to his feet. “You’re still having **jolts** , Lucas!” 

“Seeing as they’re happening to **me** , ALEXANDER, I am aware!” Luke shot back hotly, forcing himself slowly to a seated position. If they were going to have this conversation, Luke refused to have it lying flat on his back. Legs swinging carefully over the edge of the couch, he remained braced upwards with one hand while the other arm curled protectively around his belly. “I’ve been having them for weeks.” 

The information made Alex fold in on himself like a ragdoll. "Ah hell, Luke - for once could you give a damn about yourself? And not just everyone else . . . especially Julie."

Luke's grin felt wobbly on his face, but real, as he insisted, "She's gonna be an honest to God star, Alex. She's a damn meteor - brilliant and one of a kind." He sobered as he continued, "We need to help her get established right now, so when we're gone . . ." 

The words choked off at the very thought of crossing over and leaving Julie alone. She'd already lost so much - he didn't want to be one more thing she had to grieve. Alex rolled his eyes, dropping onto the couch next to Luke with a sigh. “I know how much you care about Julie, Luke, I get it! Reggie and I love her too . . . but you’re our brother and we **all** need you to be okay.” 

Reggie _poofed!_ into the studio then, whistling jauntily and then slamming to a stop as though he hit a wall he couldn’t phase through. Hands out in question, he demanded, “What happened? What’s wrong?” 

Alex scoffed, slamming to his feet once again as he threw a hand in Luke’s direction. “Moron over here is still having jolts, and didn’t bother to tell anyone.” 

“You’re what?” Reggie demanded the youngest member of the band - the one who'd been Luke’s best friend since kindergarten - scrambling to their sides as he came to sit down next to Luke. “I thought . . . it was just a dizzy spell.” 

Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic any more now that he’d been caught, Luke slumped into the backrest of the couch. “I’m dizzy like, all the time. I’ve just . . . gotten better about not **not** fainting.” 

His friends shot looks at each other, before turning back to Luke. Reggie twisted on the couch, knee coming up to rest on the cushions as he demanded, “Is that it?” 

Swallowing at the near frantic look in his best friend’s face, Luke frowned a little then shook his head once. “Pretty much constant pain and I’m even getting nauseous.” He threw a hand back through his hair, pushing his beanie off with his wrist as he confessed, “Somehow, I’ve even managed to throw up.” 

Alex stepped forward, demanding, “How? We don’t **eat**?” 

“I don’t know.”

Alex shoved his hands back through his hair, pacing back and forth. Luke must have looked as wretched as he felt, because Reggie smiled a little, reaching to jostle his knee with a fond, “And we’re back on the runway, yeah?” 

Luke chuckled, the sound dry and tired at the call back to one of their first conversations as ghosts. Before Julie and the Phantoms, before Stand Tall, before Caleb . . . Luke’s eyebrows furrowed a little as his attention turned back to the wrist Caleb had put his stamp on. Free hand coming up to cup his wrist, his thumb smoothed over the place it had been. “Julie broke the curse, right? There were three stamps that disappeared that night . . . **right**?” 

Reggie frowned a little, tone careful as he replied, “The stamp came off of all of us, man. I saw them.” 

“So why is this still affecting me?” Swallowing convulsively, Luke struggled to force the nausea down again. Just like all the times before, though, the battle was over before it began and Luke bolted for the bathroom. Hitting his knees in front of the toilet, he hurled up his guts, feeling his insides twist and spin inside of him, the sound of his sobs heavy in his ears. A familiar palm folded over the back of his neck as he pressed his burning forehead against the toilet seat, Reggie’s face coming into his peripheral as the younger ghost crouched beside him. “Why am I sick, Reg?” 

Reggie’s hands were careful and tender as they helped him move away from the toilet and back against the wall. He tried to force a smile - small but brave - as he flushed the toilet and went to get a cool cloth for the back of Luke’s neck. Settling against the wall beside him, Reggie linked his fingers with Luke’s and insisted, “I don’t know.” 

“I have to go find Willie,” Alex announced from behind them, his tone the one everyone knew better than to argue with. “This can’t be normal, Luke. And we just don’t know enough about our afterlives to have a clear idea about what is going on.” 

Luke didn’t know how much his brothers remembered about dying. He’d been the last to go, the three of them crowded in the back of an ambulance. Alex panicked and miserable before his anxiety literally stopped his heart. Reggie scared and clinging to Luke’s hand while the older boy promised it would be okay. The screeching sound on their heart monitors as they flatlined following Luke as he too slipped away. Unable to breathe; unable to think; stomach in knots; desperate to live, to make up with his parents, even knowing he couldn’t leave his brothers to face their next paths alone. 

The panic clinging to the lines of Alex’s face mimicked the panic that killed him. Those green eyes gleaming with tears and Reggie’s fear. Luke couldn’t face that again. 

So he nodded. “Okay.” Looking up at the older boy, he insisted, “But be careful.” 

Alex’s return nod was firm and stubborn before he poofed out and left his bandmates alone. Reggie shifted a little bit, wrapping his arm around Luke’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “At least Julie’s at school?” he mused with a fond bop of his head against the other boy’s. 

Luke‘s temple dropped to rest against Reggie’s shoulder as he laughed lightly. “Yeah,” he breathed out, the sound weak and tired. “I don’t think I can hide this from her much longer.” 

“Honestly, man, surprised you’ve gotten away with it this long,” Reggie agreed with a sly twist to his lips. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

“Aw, man! Don’t kick a dude while he’s down!” 

Shifting his feet under him, Reggie pulled Luke’s arm over his shoulders as he insisted, “Come on. Let’s get you back to the couch. You can get a nap while we wait for Alex to get back.” 

Luke could only imagine the startled look on his face as his head whipped around to look at Reggie. “A nap?”

“Yeah man,” the younger ghost replied. “I’ve caught you napping a couple of times. I usually just . . . made sure to make enough noise out of sight, so you’d wake up. Or if you didn’t, keep people out of the studio until you ventured out again.” Bright white teeth flashed as Reggie reminded him, “Honestly, Alex isn’t that hard to distract, and Julie’s usually at school. Not to mention, Ray can’t see you, so . . .” 

“Not hard to hide from him, yeah,” Luke agreed, groaning as Reggie pulled him to his feet. “Shit I feel like roadkill.” 

“Pretty sure it was a hot dog.” 

“Shut up.” 

The guys had always been affectionate, and when Reggie took a seat on the couch next to Luke with fingers caressing soothingly through his hair, Luke couldn’t find a single reason to argue. Instead, he only groaned and curled a little closer to his best friend. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Reg,” he whispered, eyes squeezing closed. “I’m scared.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong, man, but I know you’re not going to be dealing with it alone,” Reggie promised firmly. “We’re right here with you, man. Me and Julie and Alex - we’re gonna figure this out.” 

“Luke?” 

Julie’s voice from the door of the studio man both ghosts jump, the sudden movement causing Luke to cry out as sudden pain stabbed deeply into his gut. He whimpered, curling up further around the sensation and trying to pull his knees into his chest as tightly as he could in hopes that it would make it stop. Barely a second later, Julie was on her knees next to the couch, one hand finding its way into Luke’s while the other slipped into his hair. “Luke, what’s wrong?” she begged, eyes wide and worried as she scanned him from head to toe. 

He sobbed a little, using the hand she held to press the back of her hand against his forehead. Everywhere she touched, cool relief spread - after so long being miserable, even just the small reprieve felt like heaven. “Jules,” he breathed, tears tickling against his cheeks as they tracked down his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” 

Despite the worry he could see in her features, she forced a brave smile as she promised, “It’s okay, Luke; I’m here now. It’s okay.” He squeezed his eyes closed when she bent to press a quick kiss to his cheek, fingertips soothing against the curves of his cheek. After a moment, she stood up and coaxed him upwards, slipping under his head and letting him all but curl up in her lap. Her fingers found their way into his hair, petting him tenderly as she insisted, “Reggie, what’s happening to him?” 

“We don’t know,” the bassist replied, genuinely aggrieved at not having any answers for her. “He had a dizzy spell a while ago, but we just thought it was an aftereffect of the stamps.” 

“Right - Alex told me that. Your batteries were taking longer to recharge than you thought,” she recounted, her attention turning down to Luke as he began to squirm and writhe from the pain in his chest and stomach. “This . . . this doesn’t look like the same thing.” 

“It’s not,” Reggie agreed, the two focusing on trying to soothe Luke’s unconscious fidgeting. “We don’t know what’s happening to him. Apparently, he’s still having jolts, and he actually threw up.”

“Threw up?” she demanded. “How the hell did he throw up? You guys don’t **eat**!?” 

“I exactly as much as you do, Julie,” Reggie protested. “Alex went to find Willie; see if he could help.” 

“He did WHAT!?” she shrieked, worried for his friend. 

The shrill sound created multiple shafts of pain, each of them searing and burning their way through Luke’s brain. His vision lit up like a firework, an explosion of color that felt every bit as real as a grenade. Squeezing his eyes closed against it did nothing to relieve the sight of it and he cried out, ripping his hands from Julie’s and pulling them up to yank at the strands of his hair in hopes of distracting himself from the riot of sensation consuming his mind. He screamed, back arching as he tried to find some solace from the pain. “Make it stop, please!” he begged, tears flooding down his cheeks despite everything his friends tried to ease his pain. 

Bless Julie for a saint - the singer realized her tone had caused the spike and the next time she spoke, her voice rumbled through him as a distorted murmur. “Reggie, I’m gonna go see if we have any Tylenol. If he can throw up, maybe he’ll be able to take some painkillers. It might help.” Another second passed and she continued, “I’ll tell my dad Luke and I are writing a new song or something - he never comes in here when we’re writing together. Oh, and I’ll grab my laptop. Maybe we can do some research on what’s happening to him.” 

“Somehow I don’t think the internet knows anything about ghost physiology, Julie,” Reggie insisted quietly, fingertips rubbing firmly against a pressure point in the nape of Luke’s neck. The action ruffled against Luke’s hair, stirring his hairline and sending pinpricks of relief through his brain. 

“We have to try, Reggie,” she insisted firmly, tone scared and a little frantic. “He’s in so much pain, and it’s not fair to make him hang on like this much longer.” 

She went to move out from under him, causing Luke to whimper, his fingers scrabbling along her leg to keep her in place before finding the holes in her jeans and clenching tightly into the material. “Don’t go,” he begged, some small part of him embarrassed by how needy he sounded, while the rest of him could barely bring himself to care at all. “Please, Jules - don’t leave me.” 

She kept up a shushing sound as she gently pried his fingers loose from the denim, her tone insistent but gentle as she promised, “I’m going to be right back, sweetie, I promise.” Trailing her fingers through his hair and across his face, she took the opportunity to slip free then step back out of his reach. “Just . . . lie still, okay? I’ll be **right** back.” 

He whimpered a little, before locking his jaw firmly to prevent any other noises of the kind. “Promise?” 

“I promise.” Pressing a soft kiss across his lips, she ran before he could beg her to stay once more. Calling over her shoulder, she ordered, “Keep him laying down and get some blankets on him, Reggie. See if you can get him to sleep.”

“You got it, Boss!” he replied, Luke watching him salute out of the corner of his eyes as he tried to curl up into himself once again. Once their lead singer was gone, the bassist turned back to his best friend and began piling blankets over him. The warm, soft press of material weighing down on his hurting body made Luke’s eyes flutter, exhaustion brought on by pain sweeping through him and leaving him weightless - he still hurt, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Reggie’s fingers in his hair helped push him the rest of the way to sleep, Luke’s throat dry and clicking when he swallowed. He didn’t even sound like himself when he finally whispered, “I’m tired, Reg.” 

“You heard the boss lady, man. Get some sleep.” Sitting cross-legged in front of the couch, Reggie kept one hand folded over Luke’s as reassurance the guitarist wasn’t alone. With his free hand, Reggie smoothed careful circles against the skin at his hairline, tone firm as he vowed, “We’ll figure this out, Luke, so just get some rest. Conserve your strength.” 

Luke didn’t remember falling asleep. 

He almost remembered waking up to Julie’s insistence that he try to take something, the two tiny white tablets not having changed much in the last twenty-five years. He definitely remembered barely managing to roll onto his side, vomiting those same tablets all over the floor less than ten minutes later . . . and the embarrassment of knowing someone ended up having to clean up after him. 

He remembered stripping his shirt with Reggie’s help after he sweat clear through the fabric, his head getting caught in the neck and causing prickles of pain in his neck and head. He remembered the cool cloth on his forehead. 

He remembered Julie’s touch and the kisses she pressed to his cheeks and forehead as he continued to burn up like he hadn’t since the night he died in the back of that ambulance. 

In the end, though, everything seemed to happen on a strange kind of time loop. Julie and Reggie stayed with him the whole time, changing out the cloth on his forehead and making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. He didn’t come completely awake, though, until late that night when he startled awake to find Alex’s boyfriend Willie bent over him, one hand over his forehead and the other on his shoulder. The long-haired skateboarder’s lips curved into a small smile at the realization he was awake, tone gentle as he insisted, “Lie still, man.” 

“Willie,” he greeted the other teenager, eyebrows furrowing a little even as his eyes drifted closed again. He could feel the curves of Julie’s thighs under his head, one hand reaching back and groping in search of her hand, that sweet relief flooding through his fingers at the touch of her skin. “Willie, what did Caleb do to me? Why is his stamp making me sick?” 

Luke could see Alex hovering over Willie’s shoulder, the couple exchanging a quick, disheartened glance before Willie turned back to Luke and shook his head. “It's not Caleb's stamp, Luke; he doesn’t need it with you. Your connection to Julie . . . it gives Tezcatlipoca all of the power he needs to maintain it.” 

“Tezcatlipoca?” Julie questioned, her lips tripping over the strange-sounding word, her fear for him clear in her tone. 

“He’s very old and very powerful - he’s the entity who holds Caleb’s contract and he was **not** happy Caleb lost you three.” The words Willie spoke next felt like a death knell when they collided against him, heavy and horrible. “Tezcatlipoca is the one doing this to you.”


	3. Only Bad News Comes This Early

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all awesome. Thank you all so much for your love of this little ficlet of mine. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you so so so much!

[ ](https://imgur.com/HKHmAwN)

Julie loved her ghosts - Alex and Reggie were as much a part of her family as her father or her brother. There had always been something about Luke though - something that set him apart from the other two. She’d felt the connection between them since the moment he introduced himself; since he’d come after her to try and explain the joy these three ghosts found in learning they could not only still play music, but that others could hear them play. A little embarrassed by how hard she’d tried to fight her feelings for him, nevertheless she found herself falling completely head over heels for him. Especially after finding out the truth of why he was so angry with Trevor Wilson, aka Bobby, Sunset Curve’s former rhythm guitarist. And the truth about his mother, Emily.

As Flynn was so fond of telling her, though, Luke was dead - a ghost, made entirely air. Very **cute** air, with an absolutely perfect smile . . . but still air. 

Looking at him now, shivering and miserable in her lap, as Willie basically confirmed the worst possible scenario for them all . . . it felt like losing her mother all over again. 

The name wasn’t one she recognized, but considering the fear she could see in Willie’s eyes, it obviously would be one she needed to learn about everything she could. Furthermore, she'd need to learn quickly, if she could hold any hope for protecting Luke. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Who is he?” 

Willie looked from Luke to her, a small smile curving up the edges of his lips. “It’s late.” Cocking an eyebrow at her, he asked, “You intend to spend the night out here with him?’ 

Every inch of her ached to say yes, but despite the fib she’d told her father, she knew he would be in to check on her if she didn't make it inside before midnight. She bit down on her lip as she turned her gaze back down on Luke, relieved to see him drifting again - she’d seen him do it several times while they’d been waiting for Alex to return with Willie in tow. “I want to . . .” she insisted, looking up at Willie with pleading eyes, desperate to make him understand exactly how little she wanted to leave him alone. “My dad, though . . . he'll come looking for me eventually.”

“Maybe he can poof into your room,” Reggie suggested carefully, a small grimace on his lips even as he said it. 

Julie forced a small smile at him, the best she could manage right now, even as she knew Reggie’s expression to be a direct result of her constant insistence about the boys staying out of her room. They’d had many **many** conversations about boundaries since they’d crash landed into her life, though they’d finally gotten to the point where they didn’t just _poof!_ into her room; they didn’t go in if she wasn’t there first; and they always knocked if she was. Still, having all of the boys - and Willie, because she needed to hear the truth about this creature torturing her boys - in her bedroom at one time all but guaranteed she’d finally get caught in the lie she’d been telling her father about her “holograms.” 

As a result, she shook her head firmly. “Tell us about Texpocal.” 

Willie chuckled a little at the way she mangled the name, long hair flopping a little around his shoulders as his head shook. “Tezcatlipoca,” he repeated slowly, giving her a chance to repeat it back to him before patting the bed next to Luke. “Do you mind if I sit? I’m dead, but even dead doesn’t mean my knees are built to crouch like this long term.” 

She nodded, coaxing Luke into shifting with her sideways to give Willie some space on the edge of the couch. Reggie remained cross legged in front of the couch, eyes intent on Willie as the older ghost settled in to explain. Over Willie’s shoulder, Julie could see Alex, the blond head moving back and forth across the room by the doors as he paced in an attempt to get a hold of his anxiety. Her heart swelled for him, feeling that same anxiety and knowing it had to be infinitely worse for Alex – Luke held a lot of Alex’s firsts, not to mention the fact they remained best friends and bandmates. She felt awful for Luke - she could only imagine how Reggie and Alex felt about all of this.

Willie cleared his throat pointedly, causing Julie’s hair to fly out as her attention immediately redirected. “Sorry – were you saying something?” 

“Not yet,” he promised with a small smile. Twisting a lock of brown hair around his fingers as he tried to find a place to start, Willie finally turned to Reggie and asked, “Do you remember the night, before the Orpheum? When Caleb brought you to the Club . . . forced you guys to play in his band?” 

Reggie’s eyebrows furrowed as he considered the question, though Alex’s own answer was nearly immediately. “Yeah, I remember. It was awful. I couldn’t fight him.” 

“Right,” Willie agreed with an ashamed twist of his mouth. “You actually fought him longer than almost anyone else ever did. So did you, Reggie,” the skateboarder insisted, turning a kind smile on the youngest ghost. “But there’s one ghost who had you both beat - who fought harder than both of you.” 

Julie’s head snapped down to look at the nearly insensate ghost curled up in her lap, as Alex breathed out, “Luke.” 

“People don’t fight Caleb’s pull,” Willie insisted with a fierce frown. “They give in, almost instantly. Luke fighting as hard as he did – it forced Caleb to have to use more of his power to pull him out onto the stage.” 

Julie’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know Willie well, but even still, she could see the way he was avoiding her eyes. His eyes remained squaring on Reggie, except for the brief moments his eyes flickered to take in Luke. The lead guitarist for the band barely noticed, soft groans and softer whimpers slipping free as his body moved unconsciously across the bed. She knew from Alex that Willie had taken them to Caleb . . . felt responsible for what had happened to them there. So his avoidance of Luke made sense – seeing her bright, cheerful Luke this way had to be drowning him in guilt. 

However, that being said, why did his inability to look at Luke have anything to do with why he wouldn’t look at **her**?

Willie swallowed, before rotating to find Alex, clearly seeking out some comfort from his boyfriend. The smile that ticked up one corner of his mouth at the sight of Alex pacing seemed to bring him relief, and he turned back to Reggie, asking, “When Caleb sang on stage that night, did you listen to the lyrics of his song at all?” 

“Not really, no,” Reggie confessed with a sheepish twist to his mouth. “Honestly, all of my focus was on trying not to give into him. Not that I managed it – I still ended up on his stage. We all did.” 

“Everyone does eventually,” the ghost insisted, reaching out to squeeze Reggie’s shoulder kindly. “Especially those who get his stamp. Furthermore, Caleb tricked you three into taking the stamp, but no one has ever resisted its pull before. When the jolts start happening, typically the ghosts Caleb marks are so desperate to make it stop, they’re all but rushing to sell him their souls.” Hitching up his knee on the edge of the couch, he chuckled a little, the sound dry and bitter. “The only kicker with that is it’s not Caleb in possession of their souls . . . it’s Tezcatlipoca.” Rolling his eyes he snarked, “Caleb even said so that night; it was in the lyrics of the song he forced you three to play with him.” His tone turned musical, and Julie blinked to hear a beautiful voice come from the fourth ghost, as he sang the lyric in question, “'So listen to the words a wise man said / He said, "Covington, I got an offer that you can't refuse'."

“So what, it’s not Caleb extending the offer? It’s this . . . Tezca . . . whatever the hell his name is?” Alex demanded, skittering closer but still out of reach as Luke began to twist and cry out in her lap. 

They all could hear Willie swallow, as they attempted to hold Luke on the bed, Julie’s voice dripping with tears as she whispered whatever she could think of while Reggie pinned the flailing limbs to the couch. “Yeah,” Willie agreed with a nod. “Caleb **is** powerful, but he’s not **_that_** powerful.” 

“You said this guy is a really powerful ghost,” Reggie reiterated, looking more serious than Julie could remember seeing him. He held both of Luke’s wrists in one of his own, his free hand curled loosely in Luke’s hair to prevent him from slamming his head back into Julie’s stomach and thighs – it had hurt her the first time he’d done it, so she could only imagine how much it hurt him. Reggie’s connection with Luke predated Julie’s own by even longer than the twenty-five years since their deaths – predated their relationship even with Alex - and he’d been stalwart. Keeping calm and staying gentle, he’d been so incredibly amazing with Luke . . . and with Julie herself. Her lips trembled now, to see Reggie’s fingers drawing those tiny circles against Luke’s skull, even as he continued speaking to Willie. “How does a ghost become that powerful?”

“Tezcatlipoca isn’t a ghost,” Willie explained with a frown. “Once upon a time, when the only people on this continent were the native tribes, the Aztecs used to revere him as a god. Mythology indicates him to be one of the four sons born to the creator gods.” He shrugged a little bit as he continued, “Obviously he’s not a god but he **is** a demon. The demon of conflict and change - he thrives on it. He **feeds** on it, and what one thing changes more than any other in this world?” 

The other two ghosts looked confused by the question, and for a moment, the question left stumped Julie too. At least until Luke spoke up from her lap. “Music,” he rasped, coughing a little as it seemed to catch in his throat. Julie’s head snapped down to look at him, watching his eyes flutter along with the jolts she could see dancing along his ribs, his fingers flinching in time with each one. He swallowed again, the sound loud in the suddenly silent space, before whispering the remainder of his answer. “Music is constantly changing.”

“Hence, the existence of the Hollywood Ghost Club, where the music is loud and the party never stops,” Willie agreed, mouth twisting bitterly. 

Julie could feel her teeth digging into her lower lip as she considered the information he’d been giving them since his arrival. Finally, she shook her head and demanded, “The stamp is **gone**! How is it still hurting Luke?” 

“It’s not,” Willie replied with a shrug. “The damage was done before Luke ever left the Hollywood Ghost Club that night.” 

"I don't understand." 

"I told you - Tezcatlipoca **feeds** on change. The ghosts who perform at the Club? They're his primary food source." He stumbled to a stop at Julie's gasp, nibbling visibly on his lower lip. "Usually he doesn't have to take a lot; a good majority of them are there voluntarily, so he doesn't have to battle with them to . . ." he paused, mouth contorting as he tried to find a good explanation. A moment later, he winced hard as he conceded, "well, to 'skim off the top', I guess." 

Reggie seemed to get it first. Tone hushed and horrified, he questioned, "So when Luke fought him . . .?" 

"It forced Tezcatlipoca to take **more** . . . to try and bend Luke to his will.” Long, dexterous fingers shoved back through long strands, a huff slipping free as he hung his head. “You guys were already so weak from the stamp; it had been draining you for so long, you didn't have a lot left to give." 

The realization hit Julie like a two by four to the solar plexus, her hands flying to cover her mouth in an attempt to cover her gasp. "That's why he glitched." 

"He didn't have enough power . . . to get back to you," Willie agreed with a solemn nod. "Not on his own." 

"So who gave him the power to get back?" 

"You did, Jules," Reggie insisted, his forehead furrowing. 

"What?" 

Alex suddenly appeared over Willie's shoulder, hands on the other boy's shoulders as he insisted, "Julie, when you started singing, you called us to you. You pulled us out of the Club . . . out of Caleb's band. If you hadn't gone on stage . . ."

"We would have been trapped there." Julie could see the tears in Reggie's eyes; see the pain in his face at the sight of his best friend so clearly suffering, and unable to help alleviate it somehow. "Luke never gave up on you, Jules. The night of the dance - Luke was the first one of us to remember you, to pull himself out of Caleb's spell and want to leave. Neither of us noticed, until he did." 

"Your connection to Luke . . . it's what saved him that night," Alex agreed with a twisted smile. "You brought him to that stage. Your hold on his heart is so much stronger than whatever hold Caleb or this . . . Tezca-what-the-hell-ever had on us."

Overwhelmed by the information the boys were giving her, Julie turned her attention down to the boy still in her lap. He watched her through hazy, half-open eyes, one hand reached back to twine into the denim of her jeans once again. Her fingers found his face, smoothing tenderly over the contours of his cheeks and lips, her heart slamming relentlessly into her ribs. Faced with the realization of Luke's feelings for her, the epiphany of her own feelings for him knocked her off her axis once again. 

She loved him. What a relationship between them would look like, she didn't know. All she did know was how very much she wanted it. The consequences would never be more important than the knowledge that she loved him, and he loved her right back. 

Looking up at the other three ghosts, she bit down on her lower lip to hold in her sob. "So how do we fix this?" 

"I told you," Willie replied quietly, his eyes flitting towards her for only a moment before turning downward onto his own hands once again. "I've never seen anyone fight Caleb's stamp before; not and come out the other side still free. I don't have any other answers for you, Julie, I'm sorry." 

Her eyes narrowed, watching him fidget a little under her scrutiny. After a moment, her tone turned suspicious as she accused, "You're lying." 

He swallowed, finally meeting her eyes head on. "I wish I was. Honest to God, I do." 

"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded, seeing something in his eyes that she almost recognized. Some secret he couldn't say . . . something he **wouldn't** say. Something to do with her. Forgetting herself, she yelled at him through her sobs, "Tell me!" 

The harsh sound jolted Luke in her lap, his body arching as he groaned. Guilt swarmed through her at the knowledge she'd hurt him, however much she didn't want to, her hands coming up to caress over his face as she dropped her tone to the same low murmur she'd come to recognize as the only sound Luke could hear without pain. As for Reggie and Alex, the blond came to stand behind Willie protectively as Reggie and Julie set to soothing Luke back into the half-conscious state which seemed to pain him least. 

Julie didn't know how long it took for Luke to settle once again, but once he drifted off she looked towards the clock her father had hung in the studio as an explicit reminder of acceptable practice times. Fortunately the next day would be the weekend, but the clock still read ten o'clock. She'd been lucky so far - it wouldn't be much longer before her father came out in search of her. 

"I don't wanna leave you," she confessed in a whisper, tear-filled eyes meeting Luke's own. "I can't leave you." 

Luke groaned a little, eyes fluttering for a moment, before his jaw hardened and he tried to force himself upwards. "I'll be all right. You have to go." 

She sniffled hard, her hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. Under her palms, he felt cold and almost fragile. How he'd managed to stay corporeal for so long felt beyond her and she loved him more than she could possibly come up with words to express. The focus and determination to stay with her - she didn't know what she'd done to deserve him. Leaning over to capture his mouth with her own, she kept the kiss soft and careful, trying not to overtax him. 

He leaned into it, one shaky hand lifting to touch her cheek. When she moved to lean back, his fingers groped for her own, keeping them pressed against his cheek. Her eyebrows furrowed as she questioned, “Luke?” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” he breathed, slumping forward to press his forehead against her own, “Where you touch me, it doesn’t hurt.” 

The confession swelled through her and her determination not to leave him swelled with it. “Okay then,” she replied, kissing him again, “I guess you’re coming with me to my room.” 

He took a couple shaky breaths, the exhales coming out as soft sobs, before he nodded, “I can get there.” 

“I’ll meet you there,” she promised, fingers sketching across his cheeks for a moment, before letting him go so he could _poof!_ out. 

Granted, he made it barely five feet before he flickered back into sight, sprawled across the floor and practically keening. Julie lunged . . . a sharp cry going through her as she fell straight through him, Luke having finally lost the focus to maintain his corporeal state. He reached for her, features tortured when his fingers passed through her knee. “I’m sorry,” he begged, eyes squeezing closed as he tried to force himself solid once more. After a moment, his form shimmered with the soft glow she’d come to recognize as meaning they were solid and she scrambled to his side once again. He latched onto her, hands roaming over her in search of injury as he demanded, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she vowed, palms curving around his jaw once again. “I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

A moment later, Reggie and Alex came to crouch beside the couple, Reggie’s hand coming to rest on Luke’s shoulder as he insisted, “Okay, so that didn’t work.” 

“I don’t know why,” Luke grunted, eyes fluttering as he leaned over into his best friend. “I just . . . I couldn’t maintain it. I’m just so tired.” 

Between her bandmates, they managed to get Luke propped up between them, each of their arms wrapped around his waist and one of his arms over their shoulders. Alex smiled at him, pecking a kiss to the top of his head as he insisted, “Let’s see if it works easier with all three of us, yeah?” 

Luke nodded once, eyes seeking out Julie. She forced a brilliant smile for him, feeling her tears track down her cheeks, promising, “I’ll be right there.” 

He nodded again, before leaning further into Alex with a ragged sigh. The other two ghosts looked at each other, and then Reggie counted down from three before all of thme disappeared from view with the distortion Julie had come to recognize as their teleportation ability. She scrambled to her feet, headed for the door, only slamming to a stop as Willie called from behind her, “Julie, wait!” 

She skidded a little, turning to face him. “Willie, what is it?” 

“That thing, I was keeping from you?” he replied in lieu of an answer. “It’s about your mom.” 

As if her day couldn’t get any worse . . .


	4. Knowledge is Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the patience! Trying to keep up with my schoolwork, and my series, and this? It's been a hectic week, but you're all so very amazing! I'm looking forward to hearing what you think. You're all amazing and wonderful - I know I'm behind on comments, but I will definitely be caught up be tonight. Promise. 
> 
> There's one more chapter after this one, but there will DEFINITELY be a sequel. So I hope that works for you guys!

[ ](https://imgur.com/HKHmAwN)

"My mom?" Julie's eyebrows drew together as she looked back at Willie. "What does my mom have to do with this? Have you seen her? Is she – " _a ghost_ , Julie thought but didn't say. Somethings, she thought, she might not want to know.

Willie shook his head, gesturing back towards the couch. "Can you . . . I know you need to get to Luke, but this shouldn't take very long." 

Shooting a glance towards her house, Julie turned back and took her seat on the couch once again. "Okay. Talk." 

The long-haired skater boy bit down on his lower lip as he came to take a seat at the other end of the couch, twisted to face her head on. "Okay, so like I said, Tezcatlipoca feeds on music. So, Caleb would sometimes watch out for musicians or dancers or actors he thought he might be able to convince to join his club." Flicking his eyes up at her from his hands, Julie watched him force himself to smile at her, before turning his attention back to his hands again. "A lot of them were dying young."

She blinked at him, her fingers reaching up for her necklace - the one her mother gave her all those years ago - as she breathed, "Mom." 

"She didn't make a deal with Caleb. He approached her, and she told him where to shove his offer," he promised with a small smile. "But she **did** make a deal with someone." 

"She made a deal - have you seen her?" 

"Not her, per se," he hedged with a twist of his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed hard then huffed. "Tezcatlipoca has a wife – her name is Xochiquetzal." 

Honestly, Julie felt like as though she'd been experiencing constant whiplash lately. Staring at him in shock at what he'd said, she blinked for a moment, then echoed, "A **wife**?" 

"He stole her, from his brother - her husband - Tlaloc, and forced her to marry him," he agreed with a nod. "She **hates** him." 

"What does this have to do with Mom?" she breathed, feeling the way her face scrunched as she tried to understand why this information would be relevant to her. "Who did Mom make a deal with?" 

Willie's head cocked a little, a small smile on his face as he questioned, "Julie, who do you think?" 

Eyes narrowing for a moment, finally it clicked and Julie gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth. World reeling for a minute around her, she swayed on her feet as she struggled to reconcile the realizations he’d just experienced with what she knew about her mother. "Did a demon possess my mother?!"

"No," he replied with a firm shake of his head. "Your mother passed on, and she crossed over. She didn't have any unfinished business, Julie."

"So what kind of deal did she make?" 

“In exchange for Xochiquetzal watching over you and your brother and your dad, Xochiquetzal could have her body after her death.” Forcing another smile, he continued, “Basically, she slipped in between your mother’s last breath and the final heartbeat. The body lives, but your mom’s not in residence.” 

Julie felt a little bit like she was having an out of body experience. This whole thing was . . . . it was surreal. What else could it be but surreal? “You’re saying, my mother’s body is walking around Los Angeles, with a demon in it.” 

“Xochiquetzal isn’t a demon like Tezcatlipoca – actually, she might be closer to the goddess the Aztecs thought she was. Her name means ‘Flower Quetzal Feather’ – basically, she’s a flower maiden; the Greeks used to call them nymphs, if that makes things easier to understand.” He watched her for a long moment, then asked gently, “She gave you the dahlia, the night of the Orpheum. Whatever else she might be, Xochiquetzal has kept her promise to your mother.” 

The itch in her feet and legs nearly drove Julie crazy, forcing her to her feet as she began to pace the area. Hands wringing, she considered everything Will told her before rounding on him, "Did she bring me the boys?" 

"No. Or if she did, no one's talking about it," he promised with a shrug. "Caleb doesn't know how you can see them, and since Caleb doesn't know, Tezcatlipoca doesn't know. If Xochiquetzal was responsible for that, she definitely would have found some way to gloat about it." 

Sadness swelled through her at the knowledge that the signs she thought her mother had been sending her weren't from her mother at all. They were gifts of some . . . nymph . . . Julie had never heard of, who'd been protecting her in her mother's place. "I wanted it to be my mom." 

Pushing himself from his seat on the couch, the skater approached to lay a hand on her shoulder and force her to stop pacing, her eyes moving up to meet his own. "Julie," he started, pausing for a moment as he watched her struggled to keep her tears at bay, "it **is** your mom. Why do you think it was a dahlia?" Ducking his head a little bit in an attempt to encourage eye contact, he continued, "Do you really think a goddess would rifle through a trunk of clothes to . . . leave an old t-shirt for you to find? Every time you needed a sign, your mother made it happen for you. Even the dahlia - Xochiquetzal handed it to you, but your mother was the one who **gave** it to you."

Sniffling for a few months, Julie forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. She'd never admit it, but Willie's insistence of her mother's continued influence in her life was comforting. Head shaking, she opened her eyes and asked, "How does Xochiquetzal possessing my mother's body help Luke?" Her head cocked as she continued, "I'm assuming that if you're telling me this now, it can help him." 

"It can," he promised with a small nod. "She's a flower maiden. Build her an altar, send her a prayer - if only to keep her promise to your mother, Xochiquetzal would do what she could to help you." His mouth quirked into sly amusement as he continued playfully, “Granted, and even if she didn’t have a promise to keep to your mother, she’d definitely enjoy the opportunity to swing a monkey wrench through her husband’s plans.” 

Julie giggled a little at the mental image, earning a grin from Willie. His tone turned conspiratorial as he continued, “She **really** doesn’t like him.” 

Feeling guilty for the laughter, Julie couldn’t help noticing that the giggling relieved her pain and her worry for Luke, leaving her calmer and her clear minded. The thought of Luke, alone in her room and in so much pain, proved sobering and she frowned once more. "You said to build her an altar? What kind of altar?" 

"It doesn't need to be anything fancy," he promised with a shrug. "A shoebox with flowers on top and a candle or two." 

Nodding, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, Willie." 

"Look, I would do anything for Alex," he assured her with a soft blush clinging to his cheeks, "and what's happening to Luke, is ripping Alex apart. I just . . . I want Luke to get better, so Alex can be okay." 

"Fair enough," she chuckled through watery eyes. "I just want Luke to get better, so **I** can be okay." 

"I never would have expected that," he teased with a wry grin and a wink.

“Suddenly I understand why Alex likes you so much.” Rolling her eyes, she snarked, “You’re as sarcastic as he is.” 

“Probably worse – I’ve got decades more practice than he has.” 

His hand on her shoulder squeezed, a small, warm smile on his lips as he questioned, “You gonna be okay?” 

Another deep breath in through her nose allowed her the chance to assess her emotions, then nod. "Yeah." She forced a small smile as she continued, "Maybe it's not the same as having my mom with me, but it's nice to know Mom's still looking out for us." Glancing towards the door, she sighed, "I have to go . . . Luke . . ."

"Yeah, no. I get it," he promised with a nod. "I'm sorry I've kept you from him for so long." 

"Thank you, again." 

"No problem." 

Heading towards the door, she made it almost through the door, before a thought occurred to her and she turned back with a frown. "Willie?" 

"Yeah?" 

"How did Xochiquetzal find my mom?" 

"How else would a flower maiden find someone?" he questioned with a smug smile and a shrug, "Her name was Rose."

Tossing another wave at him, Julie finally bolted towards her room. She promised Luke she’d be right there, and she’d left him alone for a lot longer than she’d meant to. The idea of him in so much pain, when he’d claim her touch made it better – her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Somehow, she’d missed that detail to begin with; she’d just been so desperate to help with the pain, she’d missed the implications of such a thing. Not to mention, despite the promise made to Julie’s mother, Julie didn’t think the ability to ease Luke’s pain with her touch had anything to do with the flower goddess. 

Coming into the house, she located her father sitting on the couch with Carlos watching a movie. As anxious as she was to get to Luke, she knew trying to sneak by without a goodnight or something would make her father suspicious. She wasn't sure if her dad would be able to see Luke curled up, and miserable, under her covers, but she didn't really want to push her luck either. 

Trying to figure out the physics of ghosts was really more than a sixteen year old needed to be dealing with. Not to mention . . . 

Shying away from the thought, she leaned over the back of the couch with a bright, "Hello Papi. Whatcha watching?" 

"Mostly Ghostly: Who Let the Ghosts Out," her father sighed, exchanging a long suffering look with his daughter. "Carlos says he's trying to get ghost hunting tips." 

"Isn't this movie older than you, Carlos?" she joked, rolling her eyes at her brother's stubborn insistence on their house being haunted. 

Of course, it **was** , but Julie didn't intend to tell Carlos that. And honestly, the ghosts weren't exactly "rattle the chains" and "cause trouble" type ghosts. Like she'd told Flynn, the whole idea was a very hurtful ghost stereotype, and it didn't suit her boys at all. 

Occasionally annoying and more than frequently exasperating, maybe, but spooky? No - the very idea made Julie want to laugh. 

Carlos clearly didn't appreciate her teasing either, twisting over one shoulder to give her a truly betrayed scowl, before turning back to his movie and determinedly ignoring her. Chuckling a little, Julie's father held up a fist for a bump, joking, "Well played." 

Julie grinned, bumping her fist against her father's before bending to press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm gonna head to bed, Dad. Luke and I finished the song we were working on, so we have practice early tomorrow morning. I need to get some sleep." 

"Of course," he agreed with a warm, affectionate smile. "Tell those phantoms of yours, I say hello, would you?" 

Affection flooded through Julie like a tidal wave, bending to press another two quick kisses to his cheek in quick succession. _I can't wait to tell Reggie,_ she mused, before speaking, "Sure thing, Dad. Love you." 

"Love you too, _mija_ ; sleep well." 

Relieved from her obligations for the night, Julie moved towards the stairs, staying conscious to move at a normal pace so as not to make her father suspicious. Once she reached the middle landing, though, she bolted the rest of the way up and towards her room. "Luke!" she gasped, bursting into her bedroom, already gushing apologies. 

Her ghosts sat on the edge of the bed, Luke still tucked between Reggie and Alex. Except for the fact Luke was dead, she almost would have thought he just had the flu - pale as snow with ruby red lips and cheeks, sweaty hair and a listlessness that broke her heart when being worn by her happy-go-lucky Luke. 

He lifted his head from where it had been resting on Reggie's shoulder, forcing a small smile at her. "Hey." 

"I'm sorry I took so long," she vowed, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks between her palms. "Willie needed to talk to me, and then I had to make sure my dad didn't come up to check on me later." 

She wanted to cry all over again, watching him do his best to comfort her when he looked - and likely felt - so miserable. "It's okay," he promised, leaning into her hand. "You're here now. It's okay." 

Lifting one hand to brush back his hair, she frowned at the heat radiating from his skin. Looking between her other boys, she questioned, "Why didn't you get him into bed yet?" 

"He wouldn't," Reggie replied with an apologetic twist of his lips. "He wanted to wait for you." 

Another pang of guilt hit her behind the ribs, before she nodded briskly and insisted, "Well, I'm here now, so let's get you comfortable and into bed. Okay?" 

Luke's eyebrows rushed together for a moment, tone a little hazy and confused as he questioned, "Into bed?" 

Julie leaned forward, capturing Luke's lips in a brief, dry press of mouths, before leaning back just far enough to insist, "Luke, you're gonna be the little spoon, and I'm going to make sure to touch as much of you as I can so you can sleep without pain, okay?" 

He blinked at her for a moment, before that perfect smile she loved so much crept across his face. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he allowed his eyes to close as one hand lifted to press her right hand harder against his face. "Would it be a weird time to tell you, I love you?" 

"It's never a weird time to say 'I love you'," she replied, echoing a sentiment her mother used to remind their family all the time Julie was growing up. "You never know when you won't get to say it again." 

His eyes gentled, a swell of adoration and sadness glowing there as he murmured, "Unsaid Emily." 

"Yeah," she agreed, kissing him briefly once again. Turning to Alex, she insisted, "Willie's still downstairs, if you want to go see him." 

"Are you sure? I mean, I can help," he hedged, looking between Luke and Julie, though she could see the visible longing in the way the blond already edged out from under Luke's arm. 

"Go. Reggie can help." Reaching to cup his cheek next, she insisted, "Be as happy as you can be, for as long as you can be, Alex. None of us know what happens tomorrow, and we all deserve every instant of joy we can steal." 

Beaming at her, he bent to kiss her cheek, insisting, "You're the best." 

"I know," she replied with a sassy wink, only moments before he _poofed!_ out and the three were alone. 

Slipping into the vacated space, Julie let Luke lean into her as she turned to Reggie over his head. "Can you grab something for Luke to sleep in? Just shorts or something? If he doesn't have anything, you can borrow a pair of my dad's basketball shorts from his room." 

"You got it, Boss," he agreed with a salute, before turning to Luke worriedly. "You gonna be okay, dude?" 

"Yeah," he breathed, heaving in a shaky breath. "I'll be here when you get back."

Looking up at Julie for a second, he considered for a moment, before pressing a quick kiss to the top of Luke’s head then _poofing!_ away. Amused at the affection, Julie let Luke lean into her, fingers in his hair as she hummed under her breath. "They love you a lot, you know," she murmured, feeling her voice in her throat, where Luke's forehead was pressed. 

"Yeah," he agreed, his opposite hand moving across her lap to grab her own opposite hand. "We're family. When I ran away . . . when Alex's parents kicked him . . . when Reggie's parents were just the worst - we were what we had. It had always been enough for us," he replied, each exhale a soft sob. 

The pang didn't even have time to hit her, before Luke forced himself up to meet her eyes head on. "It's not anymore. I meant what I said that night, Julie - no music is worth making if we're not making it with you. That's not just me; it's all of us. You're our family too." 

"And you're mine," she promised, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. "Alex and Reggie - they're my brothers, same as Carlos. But you . . . Luke, you've always been more." 

He groped for her hand, interlacing their fingers even as his eyes slipped closed. "Julie . . ." he breathed, trailing off as though unsure what to say for the first time since they first met. 

"I love you, Luke," she promised, her thumbs smoothing tendering against any skin she could reach without moving. "You're my person . . . and I'm going to fix this." 

The jolt that hit him then caused his whole body to contract inwards on itself, Luke letting out a soft, breathless cry with his face twisting around a harsh sob. Gathering him tighter into her arms, she pressed a kiss into his hair as she vowed, "It's gonna be okay, _mi luz_." 

Her dreambox sitting on the shelf behind her burned against her senses, her head bowed over Luke’s own. Willie had said the altar didn’t need to be anything more than maybe a shoebox, stacked with flowers - _and maybe a candle or two_ \- and her dreambox was as close as she was probably going to get. 

Build an altar? She could do that . . . then throw out the fiercest prayer she could manage. They needed help - Luke needed help and he needed it **now**. 

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she insisted once more, “I’m gonna fix it. I promise.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/8rgqehC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork is by the LOVELY Marta! She's amazing! Honestly, I cannot tell you how much I absolutely love this! I've just been vibrating with how amazing it is for a week! It's awesome and wonderful and yes! *screams in happiness* This has been ANOTHER PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT MARTA IS AMAZING! *runs away screaming happily*


	5. To Plant a Garden is to Believe in Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter of Melody. There WILL be a sequel. I look forward to hearing what you all think. Thank you for being on this ride with me.

[ ](https://imgur.com/HKHmAwN)

At least to herself, Julie could confess to liking the feel of Luke lying in her arms.

Granted, she didn’t like the unnatural heat of his skin - a byproduct of the fever coursing through him and leaving him miserable. The pained gasps he let out every time one of Tezcatlipoca’s jolts ripped through him felt like knives in her chest, causing a hurt she couldn’t touch. She could do without the shivering caused by his fever, her entire body shaking under the force of them. The worst part, though, might be the little nightmares - based on what little she heard him say just before he woke up each time, he seemed to be dreaming of the night he died. Over and over and over again. 

It did not sound as though it had been a peaceful death. 

However, while those aspects of this time together counted among some of the most awful of her life, her heart thrilled to be able to touch him. The feel of his skin proved he remained with her. Some fanciful part of her believed that as long as she could lay hands on his skin, she could keep him with her forever. Luke lay curled at the edge of the bed, on his side with his knees pulled upwards. Julie curved along his back, the heat from the bare skin of his back searing through the tank top she wore - she’d promised to touch as much of his skin with her own as she could, and she was determined to keep her promise. 

Fingers tracing in aimless swirls over biceps, stomach, and breastbone, she tried to offer as much comfort as she could to the boy in her arms. Not for the first time, she wished he was alive. 

Just over the curve of Luke’s shoulder, she could see the top of Reggie’s dark head. The bassist hadn’t left Luke’s side for more than five minutes at a time since she’d learned about what the guitarist was going through, and her heart swelled with fierce affection for how much the older boy loved his friend. Stretching her fingers out, she let her smooth through soft black hair as she murmured, “You awake, Reg?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, twisting to look back at her with a small smile. “I’m awake.” Eyes turning downwards, the smile smoothed away as he took in Luke’s features from his place in front of him. “I think he’s finally out.” 

Relief swelled through her at the statement, forehead coming to rest against the back of Luke’s head in silent thanksgiving. Trying very hard not to wake him, she pulled free of Luke and rolled off the edge of her bed. “Julie?” Reggie questioned in a whisper. “Where are you going?” 

Moving towards her dreambox, she reached up to pull it down from the shelf, nibbling on the inside of her lower lip as she considered what all she would need for this. “Nowhere, Reggie, I promise,” she insisted, turning to face him with a small smile. “Reggie, I need a favor.” 

“Is it going to help Luke?” 

“It should,” she agreed with a nod. 

“Then anything,” he insisted solemnly. “How can I help?”

“I need you to go outside and gather the most beautiful flowers you can find. I don’t need a lot, just enough for a decent-sized bouquet.” 

Clearly confused for a moment, he frowned, before shrugging. “Yeah, sure. Why?” 

She could feel her lips twist uncertainly as she announced, “I have a goddess to summon.”

“A goddess,” he echoed with a frown, watching her with the kind of genuine concern she’d watched him show as he cared for Luke since this whole thing started. “Julie, are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, how would that even work?” 

She set her dreambox down on her nightstand then threw her arms around Reggie as tightly as she could manage. His arms came around her equally as tight, chin resting on the top of her head as the two clung to each other, his hand smoothing gently over her shoulder. Peace and calm swelled through her when his lips pressed against her forehead gently. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Reggie - I just know I have to try. I can’t . . .” 

Twisting a little, she turned to look at Luke, curled up under her covers and so visibly miserable. “I can’t leave him like this. He needs help, and Willie told me this . . . nymph . . . would help me.” 

“Luke will never forgive me if I let something happen to you,” Reggie insisted firmly, arms still tight and comforting around her shoulders, “you know that, right?” 

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she insisted. If he’d pressed - demanded to know why she was so sure - she wouldn’t have been able to give him an answer. All she knew; this nymph had kept her promise to Julie’s mom, and that had to be enough for right now. “I have to try.” 

His arms tightened for a moment, before he pecked the top of her head quickly once, then twice, then three times, before stepping back. “Okay. Flowers. I’m on it,” he agreed with a firm nod. “Just promise me, you’ll wait for me to get back before you summon anyone. Okay?” 

“Promise.” 

Accepting her word without further protest, the bassist _poofed!_ out of her room and into the garden, leaving Julie to start clearing a space for the little altar she would need to build Xochiquetzal. Finding the candles might have been the most difficult part of the whole ordeal, in that she had to sneak into the hallway to the storage closet near the master bedroom in order to find a few. It was midnight - if her father heard her out here, he’d come out to make sure she was okay. Much as she loved her dad, she just didn’t know how much she could tell him without finding herself back with Dr. Turner again. Her father did not now - and likely never would - believe in ghosts. 

Locating a small lighter and a pair of white votive candles, she arrived back in her room just in time for Reggie to _poof!_ back into her room, with Alex in tow. The blond drummer looked worried, demanding, “You’re summoning a goddess? Are you insane?” 

Giving him a sharp look, she questioned, “Can you think of a better idea?” 

His jaw worked at the question before his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “No. I just . . . Willie told me about your mom, and I just . . . I’m worried about you, Julie.” 

“I know and I appreciate it,” she promised, juggling the things she held so she could free a hand and reach out to grab his arm. “If I thought I had another option, I’d take it.” 

As if on cue, Luke’s breath caught, the telltale singeing sound of a jolt slicing through the air. The guitarist gasped through a sob, his eyes flashing open wide and unseeing, as his back arched. Julie shoved the candles into Alex’s arms without thought as she moved to his side instantly, one hand finding his cheek while the other moved to smooth along the back of his neck and down his spine. Soothed once again, Luke barely woke at all, before drifting away again. Feeling the sob catch in her throat, Julie whispered, “Luke is running out of time. We’re past the point of no return, Alex.” 

Alex sighed behind her, his tone resigned as he agreed, “Okay, but . . . you’re not doing this alone.” 

“I’m never alone,” she reminded him with a tearful smile. 

Reggie beamed at her, coming to her side and wrapping her up in another firm hug, the petals of the flowers he still held brushing against the curve of her cheeks, as he agreed, “Because we always have each other.” 

Clutching him tightly, she let herself take comfort in the embrace, a couple of tears sliding down her cheeks as she fought to get a grip on her emotions. Reggie stood like a stalwart, calm and steady against the buffet of her emotions. Affection and something she wasn’t quite ready to define swelled through her as she burrowed deeper, needing the comfort he was offering . . . and needing it specifically from him. 

She loved Alex, a brother from another mother if she’d ever had one. He was sarcastic and charming and so sweet - just the idea of not loving him felt foreign. 

As for Luke, he was her Person. Her other half - the part of her that fits into all the places she hadn’t realized were empty. 

But Reggie . . . a little ashamed to have been so intent on Luke she’d missed out on how she felt for him, she closed her eyes and held on tighter. She loved him - how, she didn’t know yet, but what she did know included how good it felt to be in his arms and someone he cared for as much as he cared for Luke. 

A gentle press of his lips to her forehead accompanied a soft murmur of her name, the bassist attempted to coax her back to the job at hand. She took a deep breath in, then stepped back. Looking up, her eyes caught his, the two staring at each other for a long moment. She could see it in his eyes - that realization of some shift she could feel within her own self. They would need to talk about whatever had changed, about what they were feeling - right now, though, both of them had a singular focus. 

Luke. 

Accepting the bouquet of brilliantly colored marigolds - stunning white, bloody red, blushing pink, burnt orange, cerulean blue, plum purple, and yellow-centered black - she lifted the spray to her nose for a deep inhale. “They’re beautiful, Reggie,” she insisted, looking up at him with a small smile. 

His shoulders went up a little bit - Julie felt sure that if he could have, he would have been blushing. “Blue for Luke, pink for Alex, red for me, and white for you.” Fingers reaching to touch the petals of the other colors, “These ones were just pretty.” 

She chuckled, as she inhaled the strong scent once again. “I think they are too.” 

“Well then, let’s hope your goddess thinks so too, yeah?” 

“She totally will,” she agreed with a broad grin and a wink. Turning to the dreambox she’d set up on her vanity, she grabbed up the white ribbon she’d worn for her confirmation, and wrapped the stems of the flowers into a tidy bouquet. Setting them on top, she accepted the candles back from Alex and set them at each corner of the box on the table itself. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she sent out a desperate prayer to her mother that this would work, then lit the candles. “Help us,” she begged in a breathless undertone. “Xochiquetzal, you made a promise to my mother . . . please, help us?” 

“Damn that husband of mine to an uncomfortable hell.” 

The new voice made Julie whirl, eyes huge and lighter out like a blade in search of the voice. The sight of her mother - _not her mother, but so close it **ached**_ \- bending over Luke with a small, maternal smile as she brushed a sweaty strand of hair from his face made Julie squeak in shock. “Mom?” she breathed, eyes wide and shocked at the sight of the nymph. 

The woman looked away from Luke, kindness in her features but a different soul looking back at from those almost familiar eyes. The goddess clasped her hands in front of her, a sad curve to her lips as she insisted, “No, Child. I am sorry.” 

Another new voice from near the door to her room made Julie jump, Reggie moving between her and the voice without thought. “Honestly, Xochi, you could just obscure your face.” 

“Shut up, Pilli,” the woman scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “You can ignore my brother. He's an idiot, but he decided he wanted to tag along.” 

Julie looked over as Alex spoke from her left, “I know you.” 

A bright smile curved that dark handsome face, a purr in his tone as he agreed, “Ah yes. I had wondered if you would remember me. You are an excellent dancer, little one.” 

Alex’s head ducked at the compliment, earning soft laughter from the man. “Yes, I like you. Too bad little William caught you first. Pity - ah well, I will simply pine from afar.” 

Completely confused, Julie reached out to grab the back of Reggie’s flannel as she questioned, “What are they talking about?” 

The bassist’s eyes were fixed on the god called “Pilli,” some thought cycling through his eyes, before they flashed open wide and he blurted, “You were one of the men Alex danced with that night at the Hollywood Ghost Club!” 

The handsome man bowed with a flourish as he agreed, “Indeed I was. How are Sister Sweet and I supposed to bring that horrid little demon and his lackey down, if someone doesn’t do the dirty work of spying on them.” Winking outrageously he cackled at the bashful look on Alex’s face in response. “The best nights are the ones in which I get to have a little bit of fun while I’m at it.” 

Julie watched as the man approached Alex, hand dark against the ghost’s pale skin as he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the curve of his temple. A shine of light gleamed for a moment, before dissipating as though it had never been. “You are under my protection now, little one. You and yours have only to ask and I will do what I can to aid you.” Cocking his head with a small smile, he questioned, “Do you understand?” 

“I . . .” Alex looked stunned at the statement, before swallowing hard, tone a soft squeak as he agreed, “I think so.” 

“ _Fantastique!_!” he agreed with an outrageous French accent that nevertheless made Julie giggle a little behind her hand. She had a feeling that under his playful facade, the nymph’s brother cared very deeply about those he claimed as his own. 

The giggle died in her throat as Luke jolted awake with a sharp cry, curling inwards on himself as the sound of a jolt ripped through the air. The goddess moved out of the way as both Reggie and Julie lunged to catch Luke just before he threw himself off the bed, arms and legs writhing as the jolt sustained itself long past when the others had ended. She would never be able to figure out how he did it since she **knew** he didn’t poof, but Reggie managed to get to Luke’s side in time to prevent an ugly fall to the floor, the smaller boy’s body curled up against Reggie’s chest with fingers twisting restlessly in the flannel. Julie hit her knees beside the two, suddenly scared of going through him even as she reached to lay her hands on his bare shoulders. Luke hiccuped, staring straight through her as he begged, “Jules?” 

“Shh,” she soothed, fingers of one hand smoothing over every available inch of skin as the other lifted to curve around his jawline. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

Somehow, Julie managed to forget the presence of gods in her room, the squeal of her bed springs pulling her attention around as the flower maiden took a delicate seat on the edge of her mattress. Genuine kindness and compassion lit her features as she watched the threesome huddle together on the floor. “All right then, Child of Rose,” the nymph addressed Julie directly, “ask what you wish of me. Whatever it is, it will be yours.” 

Hope nearly choked her as she begged, “Make it stop.”

“Come now, Child,” she scolded gently. “There is a lot of grey area in, ‘make it stop’. Make **what** stop? Be as specific as you can bring yourself to be - there is no limit to my gift.” The nymph smiled at her, tenderness in her features as she insisted, “I loved your mother, Child - for Rose’s Daughter, I would move a great many mountains.” 

Turning back to Luke and Reggie, Julie’s eyes scanned over the both of them, before twisting to look up at Alex. The pink garbed ghost came to crouch beside the other three, all four of them reaching to link hands. _These were her band . . . her family . . . what were the limits to what she’d do to protect them?_

Turns out, not many.

Turning back to the nymph, she took a deep breath and then spoke the deepest desire of her heart. “Protect them from Caleb forever . . . make them human.” 

The nymph’s eyes warmed considerably, a smile growing across her face at the request. “Oh Child . . . a very wise choice.” A single nod precluded her next statement, “It will be as you wish. Enjoy your lives together . . . I have every faith this will be a happy one for you all.”

Lifting from the bed, she moved to kneel in front of Luke, the skirt of her gown making a shushing sound like wind through a garden as she swept it out of her way. The goddess wearing her mother’s face leaned forward to press a careful kiss to the very center of Luke’s forehead, remaining there for several long moments. Julie watched as the kiss lingered, Luke’s face smoothing out and eyelids growing heavy as the touch continued before at last he slumped back against Reggie, boneless and pain-free for the first time in entirely too long. “Rest, young one,” the woman insisted, her fingers smoothing over his cheek for a second. “You will be weak for some time, but the damage my vile husband wrought is gone. You will heal.” 

“Thank you, ma'am,” he breathed out, green eyes very wide as he stared up at her. 

“Such a polite child,” she teased, with a wink. 

Luke’s head ducked a little, sheepish and quiet at the statement. When the nymph laughed, it sounded so much like the laugh of her mother, Julie felt her heart seize in her chest at the sudden gratitude for the goddess who had helped Luke. Shifting back onto her heels, she lifted the fingers of one hand to her lips and blew across them. From them floated a rainbow of flower petals - **marigold** petals! - and Julie’s head turned to look for the bouquet she’d offered up to the flower maiden as an offering. 

As she watched, the flowers wilted as the nymph imbued them with her power and blew them across the boys’ faces so they could receive the gift Julie had asked of her. As the petals drifted and swirled around her boys, Julie couldn’t help noticing which colors clung to each of the boys. 

Cerulean blue for Luke . . . 

Bloody red for Reggie . . . 

Blushing pink for Alex . . . 

They all turned to look up at the flower maiden’s brother when he reached to lay a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I will find your William . . . you will see him soon. And remember - my gift does not expire.” 

Alex choked, struggling to swallow as he breathed, “Thank you.” 

“ _Au revoir, mon cheri_ ,” he replied with a wink. “It is a pity we will not see each other again.” Bending, he pressed a sweet kiss to Alex’s lips and insisted, “Live a good life.” 

A bright flash seared through Julie’s eyesight, causing her to cry out in surprise, her head turning away from the light as she groped for Luke and Reggie’s hands. She could hear the goddess murmur, “Be happy, Child,” before the light faded and the four of them were once again alone. 

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise as he looked around the room. “Where did they go?” he asked, fingers scrambling to get a better grip on Julie’s, lacing their fingers, while his other hand dropped to curl through the hole in Reggie’s black jeans. 

“I don’t know,” Julie confessed with a shake of her head. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Reaching out with her free hand, she cupped his cheek as she begged, “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” he agreed, forehead wrinkled over a frown, before his head shook, “but it doesn’t hurt anymore so I’ll take it.” 

Whatever Julie might have said to that cut off as her door opened and she whirled to find her father poking his head into the room, “Julie, I thought I heard . . .” He trailed off, eyes going wide as his eyes scanned the room. Stepping fully into the room, both of his hands came up to rub against his eyes for a second, before he demanded sternly, “ _Mija_ . . . why are there boys in your room?”

“Wait, you can see them?” Julie asked, a thrill of excitement searing through her at the knowledge the flower maiden had kept her promise. 

“Of course I can see them!” her father scoffed, hands coming to rest on her hips as his tone turned stern “Julianna Rosita Molina, it is midnight and there are **boys** in your room! What is going on here!?” A pause. “Wait - are these your **Phantoms**?” 

Laughing out loud, Julie whirled to face Luke, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. Both of them were laughing as she pulled away from him, her tone joyful and excited at the blush on Luke’s cheeks as she announced, “Not anymore, Papi.” Leaning forward, and wrapping both Reggie and Luke in her arms, she breathed against Reggie’s neck, “Not anymore.”


End file.
